Hearts of Kyber
by Elfpen
Summary: Cassian, Baze, and Chirrut share a conversation on the eve of their mission to Scarif. Chirrut tells a story about a man he met a long time ago, and Baze and Cassian may or may not believe him. Chirrut doesn't need eyes to see. Sequel to 'Strongest Stars'.


A/N: I know, I know, it's not a Reprise III update. Sorry, guys. Working on that.

* * *

Waiting was a tedious necessity. It'd taken no time at all to convince the others of his plan, mere moments to identify the ship they'd take and the weapons they'd steal. But waiting? That was the pits.

They were all tense. He could practically feel their eyes on him. They hovered around the hangar, glancing at him every few minutes, seeking a cue, a sign. He couldn't acknowledge them. He'd told them play it casual until they received the council's decision, as if he didn't already know what that would be. He already knew what his orders would be. He already knew how he would disobey them, and when, and who would be at his side when he did.

Cassian disarmed, dismantled, cleaned, oiled, reassembled, and reloaded his blaster.

"You've done that twice in the last forty-seven minutes," K-2SO pointed out. Cassian didn't have to look up to know the droid was looming over his left shoulder.

"And maybe I'll do it again."

"You could." said the droid. A beat later, he added, "Or you could clean another blaster so I can have one."

"Oh, be quiet, Kay!" Cassian snapped, rounding on him. The droid glanced longingly down at the weapon, and then at Cassian's angry expression before trudging away to consult the shipyard's main console.

"You are stressed, Captain," said Chirrut from his seat atop the wing of a scrapped hyperdrive. "Come sit down, relax."

Cassian glared at him. Baze, leaning against the 'drive and also cleaning his weapons, gave him an apologetic look.

"Sitting down won't relax me." Cassian holstered his gun and paced, trying to resist the urge to take it right back out and clean it again. He crossed his arms to restrain them.

"The Force is darkened around you," the blind monk gestured abstractly, which was how he did most things in life - unless he was beating someone with his cane, Cassian reflected. "But it is strong with you still. Sit. Accept it. It will pass."

Cassian scoffed. He'd ignored Chirrut's philosophic chatter since he'd had the fortune - or misfortune - of meeting the man, but now that he had a second to put two thoughts together without worrying about dying, Cassian realized how much it irritated him. He addressed Baze.

"Are you _sure_ he's not a Jedi?"

Baze gave an amused grunt. "Only a fool," he assured.

Chirrut was unbothered by the insult, and was looking - or facing, rather, Cassian continually forgot his blindness - toward the open hangar doors and the skies beyond. "You know, I did _meet_ a Jedi once," he announced.

Immediately, Baze's eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "Oh, here we go."

"There was a sandstorm, on Jedha," Chirrut was smiling. Baze was sighing.

"Chirrut, not this again."

"He came with his apprentice, seeking shelter from the storm." Chirrut turned toward Baze, eyebrows raised as he confided, "the apprentice said that we were heretics-"

"Heretics, yes, I know."

"You remember them, then?"

"I remember how many times you've told this damn story," Baze retorted.

"You've met a Jedi?" Cassian broke into their bickering, genuinely surprised. The Jedi hadn't been seen for a generation or more.

"He met a man," Baze corrected, and then to Chirrut, he said, "I think if there had been a Jedi on Jedha I would remember."

"He had a lightsaber, you called him a Jedi yourself," Chirrut insisted, and added, "you're just getting old."

Baze scoffed. "I would _remember,"_ he insisted. Chirrut shrugged stubbornly and turned away. Baze rolled his eyes. Cassian felt childish curiosity well up despite himself, and stepped closer to ask,

"What was he like?"

"The Jedi?"

"Don't encourage him," Baze begged, but Chirrut was warming to his theme and Cassian wasn't going to stop him.

"He was very kind. Tall, deep voice - he told his lightsaber was green. He was very wise, too. He knew the prayers of the Whills."

"Jedi don't study the Whills, Chirrut," Baze cut in.

"This one did. I remember, I asked him how he knew our prayers, and he said, 'Even we Jedi may study broadly'," Baze mouthed the words as Chirrut said them, expression dripping with annoyance. Cassian tried to ignore him.

"Do Jedi not study the Whills at their temple?" He asked - he had never put much stock in the Force, and had never known the doctrines of its adherents. But hearing Chirrut speak of it… it gave him pause.

Chirrut had opened his mouth to speak when Baze said, "The Jedi do not study _anything_ at their temple, anymore," He said, attempting to bring his friend back to reality once more. Now more bitter than annoyed, he said, "I'm sure this Jedi of your's is dead and gone by now, he and his apprentice."

"He is," Chirrut agreed, still unbothered by Baze's pessimism, "but his apprentice is not."

Baze turned to look at his friend as if he'd never heard this information. "And how do you know that?"

Chirrut was facing the sky. Across the galaxy, there was a heart of kyber growing ever brighter against the twinkling backdrop of its fellows, a singing step caught in a desert storm about to break. He could not see it, but he could smell it, and hear it, almost taste it. If he held very still, he imagined he could reach out and touch it. He wished he could remember the apprentice's name.

"The Force told me," he sufficed. Baze barked a laughter.

"You see?" He told Cassian, jerking a thumb at his friend. "Just a fool."

Cassian looked between the two. His eyes lingered on Chirrut. Everything the man said was suspect, but something about the purity of his conviction, the utter assurance of his blind existence, was infectious. It made Cassian's years in the rebellion melt away, and suddenly he was a child again, catching the retreating glimpse of a lightsaber keeping the imperial monsters at bay.

"This Jedi," he asked, "what was his name?"

At this, Chirrut chuckled. "As a matter of fact," the monk said, smile hiding some private joke, "it was-"

"Jyn is on her way back," said K-2SO from the console, and Cassian turned to look. The droid pointed to the panel of security holos, which showed Jyn and Bodhi marching down the hall toward the hangar.

"Yes," Chirrut chuckled quietly.

Cassian didn't hear. He breathed in and out and it was as if a spell had been broken. All around him, men and women of the Rebellion waited on his signal, waited on their leader. He waited on his. He glanced at the holo of Jyn; only a few minutes until she got here.

"I have to gather the others," he said. "Be ready," he told Baze and Chirrut.

"You aren't actually going to go with her," said Kay, watching him scramble away to collect his team.

"Yes, I am," Cassian shot back at the droid. "And so are you."

"The odds of completing this mission without 100% casualties are ten thousand, nine hundred and twenty-four to one."

" _Kay."_

"Do I have to?"

"Just get the ship ready to go," Cassian jogged off.

Left to themselves, Baze looked back at his companion. "That name follows you around, does it?"

Chirrut smiled. "You said you didn't remember the Jedi."

"You've told me about him too many times for me to forget."

"You remember him," Chirrut maintained with a cheeky smile. "You just don't want to admit it." Baze sighed. He watched pilots scurry back and forth, watched K-2SO look shifty-eyed across the hangar before he walked nonchalantly toward the imperial shuttle impounded on the dock.

"I remember you saying he had a blind friend," Baze said eventually, voice more serious than before. "Who he helped to see. Whatever happened to that friend?"

The Jedi had spoken of her in the past tense. "I'm not sure," Chirrut lied. "She probably thought his stories of the Whills were nonsense."

Baze grunted. "Imagine that."

"Or maybe she could see clearly enough to know better."

Baze said nothing. They sat in silence for a while, Baze still polishing up his blaster, making sure the parts would slide and move freely for the long battle ahead. He snapped the last piece into place and clicked the safety switch on. "You know," he said, "if the apprentice is still alive, I hope he's not so much of an ass anymore."

Chirrut smiled wide at that. He knew little about the apprentice. He knew little about the Master. But he remembered his voice, and his name. How was Jinn to know he'd meet Chirrut mere weeks after he lost his sight? And how was Chirrut to know he'd meet Jyn and mistake her for a Jedi with a kyber crystal around her neck? How were either of them to know they'd fight with each other, die for each other?

He'd held no delusions since he'd heard her name. The sound was a bookend for his own insight; a beginning, and an end. The Force was with him, and he would be with it forever.

Jyn and Bodhi erupted into the hangar like a storm, and Chirrut knew what came next.

"You don't look happy," said Baze. Jyn spread her arms like an extension of her glower.

"They prefer to surrender."

"And you?"

Chirrut did not need eyes to see. "She wants to fight."

"So do I," said Bodhi, "we all do."

Life spent enshrouded in the Force gave Chirrut a peculiar vision. Of late, he'd begun seeing into the future. He could see it now, an end, coming nearer, where the lights would go out in a flash.

But _oh,_ what an end. It would spark whole starsystems alight, dots of the Whills scattered across the known universe.

The air tingled with power and light. Around him there were four lights, five, ten, twenty, eighty, all hardening into shining kyber. "The Force is strong," he said, listening to the crystal sing.


End file.
